


Sedated

by GoingPlaces



Series: Nursing On A Poison That Never Stung [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Angst, Demisexual Marco Bott, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, POV Marco Bott, Pansexual Jean Kirstein, Self-Hatred, Violence, half-ghoul!Marco, lots and lots of fluff, mikasa is my sweet cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 01:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6263458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoingPlaces/pseuds/GoingPlaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Something isn't right, babe<br/>I keep catching little words but the meaning's thin<br/>I'm somewhere outside my life, babe<br/>I keep scratching but somehow I can't get in<br/>So we're slaves to any semblance of touch<br/>Lord we should quit but we love it too much"<br/>- "Sedated", Hozier</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Come And Save Me From It

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this au was kind of a spur of the moment thing to help me get rid of my writers block and it got way out of hand.  
> This does not follow the events of Tokyo Ghoul word for word, I had to change some stuff around so that the story would make sense. I hope that you guys enjoy!
> 
> I do not own the rights to either Attack on Titan or Tokyo Ghoul.

The night life in the twentieth ward of Trost is not what it used to be. Not that there was much to speak of in the first place, but you could at least take an evening stroll without the threat of being hunted down by the flesh eating monsters known as ghouls. Recent reports on the local news station have chronicled a Binge Eater sighting in wards eighteen and nineteen. Some say the creature started in the first ward and worked their way through the district from start to finish, only to repeat the cycle over and over again until their demise. Of course, this is just a rumor. However, the CCG, or the Commission of Counter Ghoul, has set a curfew for the citizens of the twentieth ward to ensure their safety while the investigation to find the Binge Eater persists.  
  
Although the thought of a ghoul sighting in the ward resides in back of my head, I find myself too focused on my studies to pay the matter any mind. Because even in the face of possibly living in the same area of a flesh eating monster will not stop I, Marco Bodt, from passing my calculus exam in the morning. Jean thinks that it is ridiculous of me to even try to focus on school in the midst of such an threat. Not that I blame him for being unable to concentrate given the circumstances, but in my defense, my best friend doesn't exactly have to fight to keep a full ride scholarship to a his first choice university. My parents only left me so much in their wills as neither of them were well off in the slightest; my father died as an unpublished writer and my mother quite literally worked herself to death cleaning other people's houses. Working hard in my studies is one of the few ways I can repay them and so, I study.  
  
My cell phone lights up with another text notification from Jean. I roll my eyes, expecting another long message about how I need to get my head out of my textbooks and talk to him about the sightings. However, all I receive is a simple invitation to meet him at some coffee place after class tomorrow. After replying with a confirmation that I will meet him, I return to differential equations.

 

***

  
  
“Marco, come on!”  
  
“I told you, no,” I say sipping my latté. “There's a curfew for a reason.”  
  
“But the party is at a club in ward nineteen! We can crash at a hotel afterwards! It's not like you're going to be doing anything important all weekend anyways,” Jean huffs, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.  
  
I roll my eyes and take another sip of my coffee. “Jean... studying may not be important to you, but it is important to me,” I explain. “Besides, you know I'm not the partying type. Why don't you go with one of your friends from the committee?”  
  
“I don't want to go with any of them, I want to go with you,” he says, leaning forward again and taking one of my hands in both of his. “I want to take my best friend with me.”  
  
His gesture makes me blush, as do his words. Jean has always been the touchy-feely type, always says what he's thinking. Nothing like me, in fact, he's my exact opposite. Maybe that's why we're best friends. He's my only friend if I'm being completely honest and he wants me to go to this party with him. No one else, just me. Jean squeezes my hand gently, saying, “Please, Marco? It's just one night. Then you can go back to studying to your heart's content. But please, come with me?”  
  
The blush has not receded from my cheeks and spreads to my neck as I whisper, “Okay.” He beams with so much happiness at my answer, you would've thought he'd just won the lottery. Jean kisses the top of my hand before releasing it and goes back to eating his unfinished bagel. I finish my latté and try not to think too hard about his lips brushing lightly over freckles on my left hand. As I set my empty cup down, the stoic waitress who took our orders when we came in strides gracefully over to our table. Her short raven hair bobs gently with each step and a small smile adorns her porcelain face. She pulls a notepad and pen from the front pocket of her charcoal apron.  
  
“Is there anything else I can get for you gentlemen?” she asks in a polite voice. I can see that her gold plated name tag, resting just above her chest, reads 'Mikasa'.  
  
“Wow, you're hair's pretty,” Jean says. Mikasa seems taken aback by this, but only for a moment. She regains her composure rather quickly, probably from experience of dealing with flirtatious customers.  
  
Mikasa nods. “Thank you.”  
  
“We're both fine, thank you,” I say trying to help her get away from the table as fast as she can. Her expression turns to gratitude. “I think we'll just take the check?”  
  
“Of course,” Mikasa breathes. She leaves briefly and returns with a single receipt. I'm about to interject and ask if we can acquire two separate checks when Jean snatches the paper from her. Mikasa takes her leave as he pulls out his wallet.  
  
I'm about to object to Jean's actions when he holds his index finger up to me, pointing directly at the tip of my nose. “Let me do this, Marco,” he warns sternly. “You've already done something for me, now allow me to do this for you.”  
  
I sigh and raise my hands in defeat. This pleases him and he returns to paying for our meal. I almost remind him that I technically haven't done anything for him yet but decide against it. He'll only become even more riled up than he already is and I do not want to have to reap what I sow in that instance. I'll give him this victory and leave it at that.

  
***

  
Partying has never been an activity I enjoyed. I would much rather stay at home and read one of my favorite novels, being the introverted man that I am. I don't even own clothes that would be considered "acceptable party attire" which is why Jean dressed me in this ridiculous outfit. Skin tight neon purple jeans, an embarrassingly revealing bright yellow tank top, and a pair of black leather combat boots that go up to my mid calf. The only thing keeping me from not jumping off the subway and running back home to my apartment is the fact that Jean is dressed just as ridiculously in black leather pants, neon pink converse, and a similar neon green tank top. Some of the older patrons on the train are giving us dirty looks while others near our age appear to fascinated by our get-ups. I just scoot as closely to Jean as possible, which isn't hard considering the crowd that has formed from the rush hour. It's just after six thirty and many of the men and women on the subway simply wish to return home.  
  
Our destination is drastically different. Club Maria is in the heart of Trost's nineteenth ward, as is much of the bar scene. It's where people our age can go for a weekend to get away from the real world and enjoy the sinful pleasures of the night. Drinking, gambling, sex, it's all in ward nineteen. Jean can tell that I'm nervous, having never been to the heart of the ward at this time of day. He simply holds my hand securely in his and tells me to not let go for a second. I trust him to take care of me, not even questioning his actions because that's just him. He's just being himself and doing whatever he can to make me feel comfortable.  
  
We finally come to our stop at about a quarter to seven, running off the train before anyone can enter on. The sun is setting as we reach the surface of the city and start our trek to the club. Already the ward is whole other world than the one I'm used to. There are college-age kids dressed in the same manner as we are heading on all different directions. Middle-aged men enter the numerous bars and cabarets scattered about the streets. And just ahead is Club Maria, a one-story building made of red brick and a sleek marble entry way. The line to enter the building is not very long and we wait behind others dressed in the same neon attire till we reach the front. Jean and I present our IDs together and enter the club, my hand still secured in his.  
  
Inside is a large dance floor currently flooded with gyrating bodies. To the right of the floor is a stage where the DJ is playing an array of techno music, as well as dubstep remixes of the top 40. On the other side is a large bar, with about four or five bartenders serving drinks. The far side of the building holds a sitting area with booths and tables lining the wall and servers walking about, taking orders and handing out drinks.  
  
“What d'you think?” Jean asks, leaning up to my ear so that I can hear him properly. I take another look at the scene in front of me before answering.  
  
“It's pretty crowded,” I say, leaning down to talk into his ear. “And loud.”  
  
He smiles widely and shakes his head. “You want a drink?”  
  
“No, I'm good.”  
  
“Then let's get our asses down there and dance!”  
  
I roll my eyes and follow him out to the floor, clutching his hand tightly so that I don't lose him. We push our way out into the middle of the crowd where Jean let's go of my hand in order to pull me close to him. If it weren't for the flashing colored lights around us, he would have seen me blush. Both of Jean's hands rest on either side of my waist as he begins to move against me, flowing along to the rhythm of to music. A smirk rests on his lips as he tries to get me to move with him, but I'm too nervous.  
  
Seeing my anxiousness, he leans in close to me and says, “No one is watching you, Marco. Just let go. I'll catch you, I promise.”  
  
When he pulls away, something other than anxiety settles in my stomach. It is warm reassurance from my best friend who only wants me to have a good time. And so I let go. I'm a little shaky at first but I get the hang of the dance moves. Jean is leading me the whole way, catching me like he promised he would. We face each other the entire time, neither of us daring to turn away from each other and a different kind of nervousness rises in me.  
  
Jean has always been open about his sexuality, proudly claiming that he was pansexual since the eighth grade. He always knew who he was and who he was attracted to. Whereas I've never given much thought to whom I was interested in sexually. Yet now, as I'm looking into the hungry eyes of my best friend, I couldn't care less about his anatomy or gender. Maybe it's the atmosphere or the fact that we're dancing rather promiscuously with each other. _What wonderful timing you have, Marco, really it is impeccable_ , I think to myself.  
  
Only when I press myself closer to Jean does he turn me around and guide my body to grind against his. I am unsure of what to do with my hands so I entwine them with his and allow them to roam the expanse of my chest, waist, thighs, _everywhere_ . I can hear him growling lowly next to my ear as I lean my head back against his shoulder and sigh. He's got me, he always has me. I close my eyes as he begins to leave a trail of kisses on the freckles that reside on my neck. His lips are moving gently up to my jawline and then journeying up to my ear where he nibbles lightly on my lobe before whispering my name. “Marco,” he says my name like a prayer and I shiver, opening my dull brown eyes to meet his bright amber irises.  
  
There's another shift inside me as he leans in to press his lips to mine. I kiss him back, clumsily but earnestly. I can feel him smile at my enthusiasm and he pulls back, meeting eyes once more before turning me back around so that our chests are flush against each other. This time I am the one who leans in as he meets me halfway. I wrap my arms around his neck as he holds my waist against his. I'm more sure of how to kiss him this time, mimicking his movements eagerly and going so far as to open my mouth to invite his tongue to tangle with mine. Jean moans into the kiss and my heart threatens to leap out of my chest at the sound. The butterflies in my stomach have settled, turning into a molten lava as warmth spreads through my abdomen. _So this is what it feels like to want someone_ , I think as my hands weave their way into Jean's undercut. I wonder why I haven't felt this way about anyone before tonight when the answer comes to me. It's because it's Jean. And everything makes sense. All those years of wondering why I never saw anyone as sexually attractive, of wondering if there was something wrong with me. It is because I'd already bonded myself to my best friend.  
  
Jean's lips leave mine only to once again travel to my neck, this time attempting to mark it. I open my eyes to the scenery around me and finding that Jean and I aren't the only people enraptured with each other. This makes me feel more at ease with the public display of affection. Those who aren't completely focused on one person are dancing erratically to the beat of the music. It's a spectacle as some of the people around us are actually very good at what they're doing. Some are just watching off to the side, enjoying the show. One person in particular catches my eye. She's a short blonde woman with piercing blue eyes and pale white skin. Her hair is pulled back tightly into a bun and her partner is currently ravishing her neck. Her eyes capture mine and refuse to let me turn away. Even as I moan softly at a particularly sharp bite from Jean, I can't look away.  
  
Something about the way she's staring at me unsettles me and only when Jean captures my lips again does she release my gaze. For the rest of the night, I try to focus on Jean, but I can't help but search for those piercing eyes once more.

  
***

  
We don't spend the night in ward nineteen, although technically we did because it's four in the morning when Jean and I take the subway home. This time as we sit with our hands clasped together, I lean into his body in an attempt to cuddle while his nose rests in my hair. It was an amazing night, one that I'll likely remember as the night I realized I was in love with my best friend. I've almost forgotten about the woman who held my gaze so sharply. When we reach our stop in ward twenty, Jean and I walk hand in hand to the surface. We walk together until we reach his apartment and he kisses me goodnight. He offers for me to stay with him, but I tell him no because neither will probably be able to sleep in the same bed without doing anything scandalous. I wait till he makes it into the building before turning towards my apartment.  
  
The streets are quiet and empty save for the lamps that light the way along the sidewalk. The sun won't be rising for another hour. I pass by some familiar landmarks as I make my way home. My favorite bookstore, the post office, the bus stop where I wait in the mid morning to take the bus to get to the university. I know I'm getting close, maybe a block or two away when I smell it, the sickening stench of a cigarette. I turn to find the source and am met with the same piercing blue eyes that haunted me at Club Maria.  
  
“Hello there, stranger,” she says in a sultry voice. I swallow hard at the sight of her. She's barely wearing any clothes, just a skimpy black dress that clings to her small body for purchase. “Didn't think I'd be seeing those adorable brown eyes again so soon.”  
  
“Um… do I know you?” I ask in a shaky voice. I don't dare walk any closer to her. She is leaning against the wall of a building, hiding in the alleyway as she stomps out her cigarette. Her hand reach up to undo her bun, pale blonde hair falling to her shoulders.  
  
“Not on a personal level, but I enjoyed watching you and your friend at the club. Where is he, by the way?” the woman asks in a curious tone.  
  
“At home,” I respond.  
  
“That where you're headed?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Annie.”  
  
“What?”  
  
The woman stalks toward me and I notice she's not wearing shoes. I swallow again, not finding it in me to run. Why can't I move?  
  
“My name is Annie,” she repeats, raising a hand to brush against my arm. I flinch. She smiles. “It's the name I want you to scream when I'm devouring your insides and tearing off your flesh.”  
  
Before I can even attempt run, a tentacle-like appendage appears from her back and stabs me in the abdomen, picking me up, and throwing me towards the back of the alley. The scream that leaves my mouth is is more like a guttural cry and I hear Annie's laughter above me. Instead of meeting blue eyes, I am met with red irises in a sea of black. I've never seen a ghoul up close like this and the pain in my side reminds me that this will most likely be the first and last time. Tears I didn't know I am crying are running down my face in rivers as one thought enters my mind. _Jean._  
  
Adrenaline kicks in as I kick both of Annie's shins in a surprise attack and falls to the ground. I take my chance to get up and run, hold my side as I do so. I run down a back street and towards the construction site near my apartment building. I can hear her running behind me, laughing the entire time. “You won't escape me! I can smell you!” Annie screams. Her words only make me run faster into the sight. I can only hope that I can throw her off guard once more. My hopes crumble when  I turn to see her so close to me, four of the appendages escaping from her back.  
  
I trip over a fallen beam and crash to the ground as Annie pierces me through the stomach with one of her tentacles. My screams sound foreign in my own ears, more like a sick animal begging for the sweet release of death. Once again I am thrown off the appendage and to the ground. I can hear her stalking toward me, making sickening suckling sounds as she does so.  
  
“God, you taste so good!” Annie exclaims. I can't move, can't react. _How am I still breathing?_  
  
“Oh? No response? Did you die so soon?”  
  
_I wish._  
  
“Too bad. We were having so much fun, too.” She sounds dissatisfied.  
  
_Fuck you._  
  
“If only your friend had been here, I could have had some fun with him too…”  
  
_Leave him out of this, you bitch._  
  
“No matter.”  
  
_Kill me._  
  
“I'll just have to- what?”  
  
_Do it already._ But she never does. All I hear as I drift into unconsciousness is a feminine scream.  
  
Then nothing.

  
***

  
_He's lost too much blood._  
  
Where am I?  
  
_Doctor, are you sure?_  
  
_It's the only way to save his life!_  
  
Where's Jean? I want Jean.  
  
_I'll take full responsibility for it, just get him ready for surgery!_  
  
Jean's got me. He always has me.  
  
_Nurse, put him under._  
  
_Yes, Doctor._  
  
Jean.

  
***

  
When I wake up, I find that I am not in my apartment but a hospital room that smells of latex and formaldehyde. The mattress I lay on is extremely uncomfortable, as is the light streaming in from the window and assaulting my sleep sensitive eyes. The curtain separating my bed from the  other one is drawn, not that I hear anyone residing in it. I hear the door latch open and the click of heels against the linoleum floor. A nurse with bright red hair emerges and smiles at me. “Hello,” she says softly. “I was just coming to see if you were awake. My name is Hannah. I assisted Doctor Zoë during your surgery. Can you tell me your name?”  
  
“Marco Bodt.” My voice is hoarse from sleep and… some other reason. _Why am I in the hospital?_  
  
“Very good! Can you tell me your age?”  
  
“Nineteen.”  
  
“Good. Where you live?”  
  
"Apartment 4A, one hundred and fourth street. Trost, New York.”  
  
“Great job, Marco. Your cellphone and wallet are on the table to your left,” she explains. “I'll go inform the doctor that you've woken up get you something to eat, okay?”  
  
“Could I have some water, as well?” I ask.  
  
“Of course! Be back in a jiffy!”  
  
Not long after she leaves, I hear the door open again, this time a tall woman with brown hair tied back haphazardly into a ponytail and large round glasses enters. She is wearing pale green scrubs and a pure white lab coat, a stethoscope sits around her neck. The woman takes a seat at the end of my bed and reaches around the railing at the foot of it, bringing up a clipboard and pulling a pen out of her breast pocket. “Hello, Marco,” she says, looking up and smiling. “My name is Doctor Zoë. How're you feeling right now? Any pain?”  
  
“Hello… um, I'm alright. No pain,” I say quietly.  
  
“That's good, means that the medicine is working,” she says, scribbling down something on the clipboard. Hannah returns with a tray of food as she does so, placing the tray on my bedside table and helping me to sit up. “That's all for now, Hannah. I'd like to speak with Marco privately. I'll make sure he eats.”  
  
“Yes, Doctor,” Hannah says politely, smiling as she leaves.  
  
Doctor Zoë stands, placing the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and walks to the head of the bed. She hands me only the cup of water and stands back. “That will probably be the only thing you'll be able to stomach at the moment. The morphine will make you nauseous if you eat too soon after receiving the dosage,” she explains. “Your taste buds might seem a little off as well. Completely normal.”  
  
I take a small sip of water and swallow, feeling her eyes on me as I repeat the action until the small cup is empty. “Good,” she reasons. Doctor Zoë returns to her seat at the foot of the bed, replacing the clipboard in her lap and scratching out more notes. “I'd like to speak with you about your accident, Marco. You see, the predicament was very… peculiar. Wouldn't you say so?”  
  
“I actually don't remember much of what happened, Doctor. The details are a bit fuzzy,” I respond. Her expression is hard to read, but I don't like it.  
  
“Well Marco, it seems that you were in a very dangerous accident. You came in with multiple stab wounds, one cutting into your abdomen and another piercing right though your stomach. The girl... well, we did what we could with her but…”  
  
“Girl?” I ask. _Annie._  
  
“Yes, a woman about your age I'd say. Crushed by a large construction beam. Pity, but her organs were very valuable. We were able to salvage them and complete your surgery-”  
  
“Wait,” I stop her. “What do you mean valuable? Did… did you put her… organs inside me?”  
  
_No no nonononono this can't be happening._  
  
“I'm afraid so, Marco.”  
  
_I can't breathe. What the fuck did she do to me? Annie's organs… her stomach… inside me… her taste buds._  
  
“You said that the food would mess with my taste buds,” I say in a calm voice, although I am anything but. “That was a lie wasn't it?” Doctor Zoë's face remains the same. “You're the one who messed with my taste buds, aren't you?”  
  
She sighs and takes her glasses off, looking down at her lap before looking back up at me. I relive the terror of last night as I stare back into her red irises surrounded by darkness. I feel sick. I feel like crying. I feel like curling up in a hole. _Everything was going to be so good. I've lost myself. I've lost Jean._ Jean. Oh God. I can never be alone with him ever again. “What have you done to me?” I ask, tears starting to fall from my eyes.  
  
“Marco, listen to me-”  
  
“No!” I scream at her. “You listen! You should have let me die! I'll never live a normal life ever again! I'm a fucking… I'm a monster…”  
  
“No you aren't. Listen to me, Marco. You can still live your life the same way. It will just take a week or so for you assimilate back into your old life. With some help, of course. I'm not leaving you to fend for yourself.”  
  
I stare at her in disbelief. “I can't be a ghoul…”

  
***

  
Jean won't stop calling. Not texting, not messaging me. He's calling and I'm avoiding him until I physically can't anymore. It's been nine days since I was discharged from the hospital, two weeks since the attack. Two weeks since I last saw Jean, in person that is. He's still active on social media, still going to school and committee meetings and who knows what else. He calls three times a day, same time on the dot. Once in the morning, once in the afternoon, once before he goes to sleep at night. Like clockwork. He knows about the accident, he knows that I made through surgery, he knows I'm okay. But for him, it is not enough. He has to hear it for himself. The first few days of being out of the hospital, he'd actually come to the apartment and stand outside my front door for hours. He stopped when there was a complaint. That hasn't stopped him from trying to contact me. When I don't answer, he leaves long messages about his day on my voicemail, always ending with 'I need to talk to you, Marco. Please call me back.' I'm a shitty person.  
  
My best friend has always been the persistent type. When I moved to Trost with my parents in the second grade, I was sad that we had to leave the quiet town Jinae for the big city. I sat alone in the back of the classroom, doing my work diligently and reading the books my father gave to me. I was reading under a tree at recess when this silly little boy with two-toned hair came and sat next to me. He said that he wanted to be my friend because he'd never seen someone with so many spots on their face before. And so, we were friends. Then we were best friends, we still are. I've only fallen in love with him.  
  
And I can't fucking touch him. Hell, I'm too cowardly to even answer the damn phone when he calls. He wants to go to Wall Rose (the coffee shop), which is run by ghouls, by the way. He wants to see a movie. He wants to go for a long walk. He wants to see me. He wants to hear my voice. He wants to talk. And I won't let him anywhere near me. I can't.  
  
A knock on the front of my apartment pulls me from my thoughts. I get up and look through the peephole and see Mikasa, the waitress from the Rose who served Jean and I nearly three weeks ago. I open the  door for her so that she can come inside. She walks carefully past me and into the small kitchen, setting a small package on the counter as well as an envelope. “He came in again today, Marco. He wanted me to give you this.”  
  
I walk towards her and see the package is a small container of ground coffee beans. The envelope lies next to it, 'Marco' is scrawled across it in his handwriting. “Why did he give it to you?”  
  
“He's obviously figured out that we know each other  and knew that I was coming to see you,” she says quietly. “He just wants to talk to you, Marco. You're not going to hurt him. You're full and Wall Rose will keep it that way. Just go see him, please.”  
  
Her words take a moment to sink in and just as I'm about to respond, she says one more thing. “You're not Annie.”  
  
I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, right. I only have her stomach, liver, and kidneys inside me. I'm just the same old me, except now I have to eat human flesh to survive. Oh! And don't forget the tentacles that pop out of my spine when I'm hungry. But nothing has changed about my personality. No difference at fucking all.”  
  
“Marco! I'm tired of being your goddamn carrier pigeon! Fucking grow a pair and go talk to him! You are not the only one hurting!” Mikasa yells, her usually calm composure fading into something akin to rage. I'm almost frightened of her, but I stand my ground, albeit a bit shakily. “He tells me that he thinks he forced you into kissing him. Convinced himself that you hate him. He sits there at the same table you were at three weeks ago and wonders why his best fucking friend won't even send a shitty text to tell him that he's okay. He misses you. He just wants things to go back to the way they were and you don't even have the decency to give him that.”  
  
I'm crying again, I can feel the tears escaping my eyes in waves. I don't even attempt to wipe them away because I deserve to feel this way. She's right, I know she is and it makes feel even worse. I've left Jean alone in this, wallowing in my own self-pity for too long because I didn't want to hurt him. By doing so, I've hurt him anyways. Mikasa holds me close to her chest and pets my hair in an attempt to calm me, it's then that realize I'd fallen to the floor. And she just allows me to cry with no implication of stopping me, holding me the whole time. I don't deserve this, I don't deserve her pity.  
  
I want Jean… but I don't deserve him either. This only makes me sob harder.  
  
How long it takes me to calm down, I don't know but the sun has long since set and Mikasa has eased her grip on me as I catch my breath. She offers to make me a cup of the Rose's special blend of coffee and I'm too upset to refuse. I check the time as we both get up, seeing that it's almost eighty o'clock at night. “Shit, Mikasa. Did you miss your shift?”  
  
“Armin took over for me so I could come here,” she says without missing a beat. Her lithe fingers working efficiently as she speaks. “Erwin was worried about the both of you so he sent me after Jean gave me the letter and left.”  
  
Oh, right. The letter. I reach for the envelope, rereading my name before opening the letter. I don't have it in me to wait until Mikasa leaves, mostly because I don't think I'll be brave enough. I pull out the folded piece of paper and open it. I gasp as I realize that it's all in his handwriting and almost break down again. _God, Marco, why have you done?_ I start to read it silently as the rich aroma of coffee fills the apartment.  
  
_Marco,_  
  
_I don't know what the fuck I did to make you want to avoid me for the past two weeks but believe me, I am so goddamn sorry. I thought that it was what happened at the club but now I'm not so sure. Because I felt something when we kissed. I felt so fucking happy Marco, you have no idea._  
  
Yes, I do Jean. Believe me.  
  
_And you were kissing me back. I could feel it. I've never been so sure of something in my entire life. Yet, over this period of silence, I was starting to think that I was just imagining things and I forced you to kiss me._  
  
You didn't.  
  
_But it has to be something else. Maybe it's something that is still haunting you because of the accident. You might feel like you're alone and that you can't trust anyone anymore. Well I'm telling you that you can. Because I'm right fucking here, writing you some shitty letter to let you know that I'm still here._  
  
Jean…  
  
_I understand if you want space so I'll stop calling._  
  
No.  
  
_But I'm still going to keep showing up at that stupid coffee shop because it's my last connection to you. I'm there every day at two o'clock. Please just come sit with me tomorrow. We don't even have to talk. Just let me see you. Please._  
  
_Love, Jean_  
  
“What'd he say?” Mikasa asks as she sets down my cup of coffee. I take it gratefully and drink half of it's contents before speaking.  
  
“He's begging me to come see him tomorrow.”  
  
“Will you?”  
  
“Yes. I owe him this.”

  
***

  
Wall Rose is a safe haven for both ghouls and humans alike… and whatever you call me. The owner is Erwin Smith, a ghoul in his early thirties who wishes to help those that wish to live a life without killing people to survive. Mikasa told me that they only take suicide victims or people that have died and wish to donate their organs. The organs that are valuable stay with the hospital where Doctor Zoë works while the rest come to the Rose. It's actually a pretty good setup if I'm being honest and it helps me feed without having to dismember anyone so that's a plus.  
  
I came into Wall Rose at one thirty so that I could prepare myself for the worst. Also because I'm an awful coward who believes his best friend is better off without him and if I tried to come later, I probably wouldn't even try. I'm sitting at the same table, in the same seat I was in three weeks ago watching the clock tick down the minutes until his arrival. I'm nervous, so nervous to the point of nausea but I just take a few deep breaths in order to calm down. And then I see him walking down the street, just far enough that I am able to tell if it's him or not. I stop thinking. I just stand and walk toward the exit and out on to the sidewalk, taking a few steps forward before stopping and calling out to him. “Jean!”  
  
He looks up immediately, making eye contact with me. And I can tell that he stops thinking too because then he's running. Straight at me. I brace myself for the impact. He embraces me with enough force to have me stumbling backwards a couple steps as he wraps his arms securely around my neck. His legs are around my waist in an instant, clinging to me like a koala bear and I breathe a sigh of relief. I hold him to me just as tightly, not caring that we're in the middle of the sidewalk having what I would consider the gayest moment in the history of my life. After the initial shock settles down, he starts shaking violently, his whole body wracking with the intensity of his sobs. I hold him just a bit tighter considering that I am the cause of his grief. I let him have this because I realize that the tables have turned. This time, I've caught him.  
  
It takes us fifteen minutes to actually get inside the the coffee shop. I'm cautiously holding Jean's hand because I don't want to hurt him anymore than I already have, yet he's grasping mine with an iron grip as though he's making sure I won't slip through his fingers. I don't blame him. We take our seats at our table and silence settles in the air between us, neither of us knowing what to say exactly. Jean makes the first move.  
  
“You look really good, Marco,” he says in a hoarse voice, tired from crying. My heart drops at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes and wet lashes. “I missed you.”  
  
“I… I owe you an explanation,” I say. I was going to tell him that I missed him too, but it would sound stupid and selfish since I could have just picked up the goddamn phone. “I'm… so sorry, Jean. I know that I can't say anything to change-”  
  
“No, Marco, please,” he interjects. “You don't have to say anything. I know you wanted space and I should have just given it to you.”

“But Jean, that's just it. I didn't want space.”  
  
“Then why…?”  
  
“Because I…” I trail off. “I didn't want to burden you with my issues. I didn't want you to see me as this fragile hu- person that needed help. Believe, I wanted to be around you, but I… I couldn't let you see me like that.”  
  
He's silent for a moment, taking in all the information I've given him and I pray to whatever cruel entity above that he believes me. “Marco…,” he starts. “Who gave you the right to control what I can and cannot handle?” Now that I wasn't expecting. I can see the anger rising in his tried amber eyes  and I am unable to look away. “I have been beating myself up for weeks trying get a grasp on what I could have possibly done to fuck up our friendship and you thought you were protecting me?! I've been an emotional wreck for two fucking weeks because you thought I couldn't handle being around you?! At least I had the fucking decency to call!”  
  
All I can do is nod along with his statements because I know how right he is. This all sounds so ridiculous, but I can't tell him the truth, not ever. “How dare you, Marco Bodt! How fucking dare you!” Jean shouts. “You do not get to decide my feelings for me! I can do that for myself!”  
  
“You're right,” I whisper. “You're more right than you'll ever know. I realize that now and I... I understand if you can't forgive me and I so sorry. For everything.”  
  
“You should have just stayed with me…”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I said that you should have just stayed with me that night instead of going off on your own.”  
  
I nod my my head because I couldn't have agreed more. If I had just stayed with Jean then none of this would have ever happened. I wouldn't be an abomination and he wouldn't be broken, I wouldn't have destroyed our relationship. But I know I can't change the past. I am what I am because of the decisions I made and now I have to deal with the consequences. There is still a small sliver of hope residing in me, however, because Jean hasn't released his vice grip on my hand once during our conversation.  
  
This is what I thought I wasn't going to be able to handle: intimacy. It's silly how simple another hand holding yours is until it is actually happening and you realize how big this small gesture really is. I haven't asked for forgiveness and yet, here we sit, holding hands like it is the most natural thing in the world and it is enough for me. I thought being so close to Jean end with him getting hurt, either by me of from some other monster. But I've only hurt him by pushing him away and that wasn't good for either of us in the long run. We're still broken but we can fix each other. That's all I ask.


	2. Drag Me Away From It

The past few weeks have gone surprisingly well… or as well as they could have gone. Erwin offered me a job at Wall Rose which I took graciously. He really is a kind man and I'm reluctantly grateful to Doctor Zoë, who has insisted I call her Hanji since I've joined the Rose's family, for introducing me to him. Their friendship is an interesting one and I often find myself questioning the actual depth of their relationship. But I've been trying to do this thing where I don't judge people based on their appearance.  
  
I've also come to meet the rest of Wall Rose's staff, besides Mikasa. Armin Arlert is the waiter who took Mikasa's shift all those weeks ago when I was drowning in my own despair. He is a short man, perhaps an inch or two shorter than she is, with golden blond hair and eyes as deep and blue as the ocean. He's older than I am, about six years my senior and only two years younger than Mikasa, who is twenty-seven. They both look as though they should be in high school, I'd be curious to see what Mikasa's younger brother looks like if he's the same age as Armin.  
  
Next is Ymir, who is only two years older than myself. She is a loud, brash woman with tan skin and freckles that adorn most of her body, nearly making her my twin if it weren't for hazel colored eyes. Ymir is about my height and attends the same university as Jean and I along with her girlfriend whom I've also have yet to meet.  
  
Then there are the two giants who work the behind the scenes business for the Rose, Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover. The former is a large muscular man with blond hair, golden brown eyes, and pale skin. A recent college graduate, Reiner takes charge of the collection of 'food supply' with Bertholdt as his partner. The taller of the two is not as built as his counterpart, but what he lacks in brawn, he makes up for in brains. Bertholdt is actually Ymir's cousin, sharing her dark features and light eyes but no freckles.  
  
The group is a peculiar bunch, however, they're a family and I'm proud to be apart of their dynamic. Even if the circumstances leading to my being hired were... less than desired. I find solace in the Rose's atmosphere, especially during my afternoon shifts after my morning classes. My professors didn't take too kindly to my ten day absence but I was able to catch myself up fairly quickly and Jean has been a significant part in that. After our conversation a few weeks ago, we've been taking things one day at a time. I don't think he's forgiven me yet, which is completely understandable, but we both know where we stand in our current relationship. Still best friends for now, maybe something more later… or not ever. I'm still afraid of hurting him, physically and emotionally, if I get too excited. Mikasa's been helping me with these feelings though, even introducing me to a friend of hers who has a physical relationship with a human.  
  
Connie Springer attends the same university with me, as well. I've come to find out that he is actually friends with Jean as they're on the same event committee together. He's an upperclassman who works at Wall Rose every other weekend, sometimes during the week if he can find the time. His personality is a bit… abrasive, to say the least. But I guess it's because his childhood was not the best, having lost his entire family by the age of eighteen. Connie's girlfriend comes to visit the Rose whenever he works. She's a sweet woman with an appetite that could rival that of a Binge Eater. I believe her name is Sasha but I haven't spoken much with her because she keeps her attention focused on either her boyfriend or her food. I can tell that they're happy together, which makes me a little jealous but that's my fault. I messed up with Jean and I can't just jump into a relationship with him until I am absolutely sure I won't kill him. No matter how jealous I am of Connie and Sasha.

On a cloudy Sunday in March, I find myself working with Mikasa and Connie for the morning shift. I have had to start wearing a white eyepatch over my left eye, the one that changes when I feed, because I haven't learned how to control it. Thankfully, the morning is quiet and there are not many customers to give me strange looks. This doesn't stop Connie from teasing me, however.

“Seriously, Marco, you look like a fucking pirate,” he says as he cleans a glass mug. I roll my eyes as Mikasa, who is supposed to be wiping down tables, giggles at his words. “We should get Bertl to craft you a goddamn peg leg and hook hand combo!”

“Very funny, Con, ha fucking ha.”

“Aww, come on, Marco,” he jests. “If you're a pirate captain, Jeanbo can be your first mate.”

Blush rises is my cheeks as I catch the underlying meaning in his words. “S-stop it! Jean and I are taking things slowly,” I respond in a flustered manner.

Mikasa is chuckling behind me. “Connie, stop teasing and get back to work.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says as he picks up another mug.

There is a comfortable silence that settles over us, but I can't shake Connie's words from my mind. “Besides, even if I wanted to be with Jean that way, I wouldn't be able to,” I say quietly.

“Sure you could. Sasha and I have sex all the time!” Connie exclaims shamelessly.

Although I am blushing again, I ask, “How?”

“Marco, if you don't know how sex works between two dudes, I really can't help you,” he responds. “I'm straight as a fucking board.”

“Sure you are,” Mikasa murmurs. “Reiner might say differently.”

“Hey! I was experimenting!” Connie shouts. “Everyone experiments at some point or another and he helped me realize that, yes, I am so straight, I don't even take turns while I'm driving.”

Mikasa looks skeptical but drops the subject. Connie sets down the mug he was polishing on the counter and turns to me. “Look, Marco, all joking aside, if you want to get physical with your not-boyfriend, go for it.”

“What if I get too excited and I hurt him?” I ask.

“A valid point. You know, when I first fucked Sasha, I was planning on killing her afterwards?” Connie asks.

“No.”

“Yup. For reasons known only to her and myself, I didn't. Then I got to  a point where I hadn't eaten in a few weeks and I attacked her… She said that if I needed to, I could kill her. Almost did. Then I realized I was in love with her and what can I say? I keep her around cause I'm sort of a softie and the sex isn't bad. The rest is history,” he explains. “As for your predicament, you won't hurt the kid. Not unless you're starving or he's bleeding, even then you might not hurt him. It's obvious that you're fucking head over heals for him, you'll stop yourself if you get over excited. Trust me.”

“He doesn't know about me…,” I whisper.

“Well, neither did Sasha,” he says. “But I'm glad she knows. If you ask me, her finding out was the hard part, not the physical stuff.”

“You think I should tell Jean?”

“On your own terms, yes. Don't let him find out on his own but decide to let the cat out of the bag when you feel the time is right.”

He can actually be pretty helpful when he wants to be, I think. To know that I won't hurt Jean is a comfort but now there's the issue of telling him about what really happened to me after the accident. And that frightens me more than physically hurting him. Lying to him in the past has proven to be the worse of my options and avoiding the topic may cause me to push him away. Again. I will not do that to him. I've already damaged too much of our relationship to risk losing him again.

Now I just have to work up the courage to tell him.

The bell above the the entrance chimes, derailing my train of thought. Sasha bounces into the building, followed by Jean, and bounds over to her boyfriend. She kisses him on the cheek before taking a seat on one of the bar stools in front of the counter. When I look back at Jean, I see a faint hint of blush on his cheeks and a small grin as he gazes at the couple. He looks at me then and more blush rises in his face as he takes his own seat at the counter, the moment shattered. Or so I thought because then he's grabbing for one of my hands so that he can play with fingers.

“I may need that, you know,” I whisper as I give him my hand willingly. He smiles playfully and meets my eyes.

“You'll have to give me something for it, something good.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Jean chuckles as he toys with my index finger. “You have to come up with it on your own…”

I fake a pout. “You won't even give me a little hint?”

“Nope.”

“Tease.”

“You know it,” he chuckles.

This is often how our interactions at the shop play out. Shameless flirting until one of us has to break it off somehow, whether it be with him leaving to run an errand or me having to make someone's order. But lazy Sunday mornings are kind to us because of the lack of people wanting cappuccinos. “What if I clean your apartment after my shift?”

He purses his lips in mock consideration. “Hmmm, tempting but I don't think that will cut it.”

“You sure?” I ask. “My apartment definitely tops yours when it comes to cleanliness.”

“I'll live,” he deadpans and I giggle.

“How about a backrub?”

“No, I'd rather not have to go to the chiropractor because you fucked up my spine.”

“Jean! I'm not that awful!”

“You gave me whiplash the last time you gave me a ‘backrub’. Try again.”

At this point I think I have an idea of what he wants from me so I decide to tease him a little more. "I can make you a fresh cup of coffee…”

“Marco…”

“What if I kiss you?”

There's a shift in the atmosphere between us. Neither of us dares to move, just waiting. Jean has stopped playing with my fingers and simply rests his hand over my own. His expression is unreadable and I begin to fear that I've crossed a line when he nods, giving me the okay. I take a deep breath as I slowly lean in to press my forehead against his. We stare at each other for another beat, neither of us breathing. I look down at his lips and take a deep breath before I press mine against them.

We haven't kissed since that night all those weeks ago. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then. In a way it has I suppose. Neither of us is the same person we were before then. Jean is timid and shy around me in public now, as opposed to when we're in the privacy of either of our apartments. I do not know whether or not this change is because of what I did to him or if this is just how he acts toward his significant other in a relationship. It is endearing in a way and I can't say I have any reason to complain. Even as he is kissing me so sweetly, that is all he does. He makes no attempt to change the tempo and I'm grateful that he is staying at his own pace. I brush my lips gently against his in return, telling him that I don't mind this. Just feeling him so close to me is enough. It  is more than enough.

Jean is the first to pull away, his breathing is slightly irregular and his cheeks are flushed. I'm sure that I'm in no better state. He smiles widely and releases my hand. “You can have it back now.”

 

***

 

Mikasa trades places with me behind the counter after the kiss. Something about giving me some air. I don't mind although Jean seems a little bothered when more customers arrive and I have to leave his side to take their orders. It only takes me a few minutes to come back and place the orders with Connie and Mikasa. He appears content with this until I have to leave again to deliver the orders. When I return once more, he nuzzles my chest and tells me I'm not allowed to leave unless there's an emergency. I roll my eyes and pet the top of his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. I don't know how to describe our relationship anymore now that we've crossed over another line. We're still going to go slow, just testing the waters until we can get back to where we were. I know that it'll be worth the wait. Until then, maybe I can come to terms with what I am and I'll be able to tell him the truth. I can hope.

Eventually Jean takes his leave to finish the homework he's been avoiding all weekend but not before kissing me on the cheek. Connie makes a comment about how gay we are. I just nod and get back to work.

Sundays at Wall Rose are called half days because we start to close around one in the afternoon. After the last few customers trickle out, we work to clean the place up. Mikasa changes the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ while Connie turns off the machines and I mop. Sasha helps out by cleaning a few tables but stops after four to sit back at the counter. That's when we hear the bell chime near the entrance and I look to Mikasa in confusion. “Didn't you change the sign?” I ask.

“I must have forgotten to lock the door,” she says quietly as Connie goes to grab Sasha.

“Go upstairs, baby,” he whispers sternly and she hurries off without a moment to spare.

Not a second after her departure enters a short pale man about Armin’s height. His raven black hair is styled so that every strand is in place and his steel gray eyes search the room. He is wearing a deep violet suit with a bright red button down that contracts against his porcelain skin. His presence alone is intimidating even if his size is not and I feel something akin to fear rising in my stomach. The man raises his pointed nose high in the air and takes a long breath in, smirking as he releases it. “Something smells _delicious_ in here, Mikasa,” he drawls in a smooth voice. “Has Erwin cooked up something new?”

“You know you aren't welcome here, Levi,” she says venomously. “I suggest you leave immediately before I have to call someone in here.”

The man, Levi, simply grins at her words. “You're much too stuck up, Mikasa. Nothing like your brother.” As if on cue, a young man enters from the hallway behind Levi and drapes his arms around his neck. The younger man is taller and much darker skinned than his companion, adorning a simple black sweatshirt and a pair of dark indigo jeans. His brown hair is shaggy, giving him an air of ‘I literally just rolled out of bed’. His most striking features, however, are his eyes. A mixture of green and blue that is difficult to describe with words other than breathtakingly beautiful, which makes him all the more terrifying.

"Hey, Mika,” he says in a relaxed voice.

“Eren, you little shit-”

“He's new,” Eren says, disregarding his sister and staring curiously at me. Levi sets his eyes on me and I can feel my blood run cold. He leaves Eren’s embrace and stalks toward me, reminding me of Annie before she attacked me. Levi circles me in a predatory fashion, taking another deep breath as he does so. He chuckles darkly. “He's not fully like us. He smells like a human and yet,” Levi pauses, coming around to my front and reaching up to rip my eyepatch off, revealing my red iris. “Half-ghoul, hm? I assume Hanji did this? No matter… I'd love to have a taste of him.”

Eren growls behind him, his stance growing rigid. Mikasa rolls her eyes as Levi turns to face his companion. “Not like that, Brat. I just want to know what his flesh tastes like,” he explains nonchalantly, as though he were talking about the weather.

“Levi!” yells a booming voice. Erwin emerges from the bottom of the stairs that Sasha fled up minutes ago. He towers over Levi, thick arms crossed over his wide chest with a menacing look upon his face. “I told you to _never_ come back here, under any circumstances. You want to live your ‘extravagant’ lifestyle, do it far from here.”

“You say that like you own the whole twentieth ward, Erwin.”

“Leave, now. I will not ask you again.”

Levi clicks his tongue and walks back toward the entrance, grabbing Eren’s hand as he goes. He stops before heading down the hallway and looks over his shoulder at me with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I forgot to ask for your name,” he states lightly. I swallow. “Doesn’t matter, we’ll meet again. I always get what I want.” Then they’re gone and I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Mikasa rushes to my side as Connie makes his way upstairs.

“Marco, are you alright?” she asks, her words laced with worry.

“I’m… I’m not sure how I feel right now,” I reply. “Who was that guy?”

“Levi,” Erwin states his name like a curse. “He’s what we call a Gourmet, meaning that he belongs to a wealthy group of ghouls that believe they’re above the rest of us because they enjoy their meals cooked and handed to them on a silver platter. I used to know him when I was younger, grew up in the same ward but… we disagreed on a majority of ghoul philosophies. I welcomed him to Wall Rose years ago thinking that I could sway him toward a different way of life. It didn’t work as well as I had hoped and so I told him to leave but he’d already corrupted Eren’s mind. They left together.”

“Eren… is your brother?” I ask Mikasa.

“Adopted brother, yes. His mother and father took me in when mine were killed by the CCG,” she explains. “I was supposed to look after him in the event of his parent’s demise. We came to Wall Rose for sanctuary when they passed. It’s Levi’s fault for taking him from me, not yours Erwin.”

“I am still as responsible as I am for the target on Marco’s back,” he responds, turning to me. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you and those dearest to you, Marco.”

My heart stops as his words start to sink in. “They couldn’t know about Jean… He wasn’t even here,” I say breathlessly. “You don’t think they would go after him to get to me, do you?”

“It’s possible, Marco.”

I fall to my knees. I can’t breathe. _We were just starting to get good again._ I feel Mikasa’s hand on my back, trying to rub soothing circles into my by. Her voice is in my ear but I can’t make out the words. I can see Erwin kneeling down in front of me but my vision is blurred by tears that are beginning to fall. His hands are on my shoulders and my own cling desperately to his forearms for something to steady me. “What- what do they w-want from m-me?!” I cry out. “W-what will th-they do to him?!”

“Marco, listen to me,” Erwin says. His voice is calm. _How can you always be so fucking calm?_ I try to take deep breaths so that I can settle down long enough to hear what he has to say. “People like Levi hunt for their meals. It is a game to them. They hunt the innocent like prey and skin them like wild animals so that they can feel superior. You are just another piece of meat to him. He thinks that you’ll be a delicacy because you’re a hybrid, half-human and half-ghoul. I don’t know what he will do to Jean, but I do know that he will go to extreme measures if it means he can trap you. Right now, we need to be careful. Jean wasn’t here but he carries your scent. Which means they could already be preparing to track him. We just need to get to him first. Do you know where he is right now?”

I nod. “His apartment.”

“You and Mikasa go get him and bring him here. We might just be able to protect you both long enough until we can plan our next move,” Erwin instructs as he turns to Mikasa. “Do whatever you have to to protect them. Jean doesn’t know about Marco’s biology and I’m sure that he would like to tell him in his own time. Do not let him use his kagune at any cost. Do you understand?” She nods. “Good. Now you both need to go. I don’t know how much time you have.”

Mikasa picks me up off of the floor and hands me a tissue along with my eyepatch. “Thank you,” I whisper as I wipe my eyes and blow my nose.

“No problem,” she says, smiling. “Now let’s go. Erwin was right about time. It’s not exactly on our side right now.”

I nod and place the patch on my left eye and follow her out the front entrance, the ‘closed’ sign hitting the glass as the door slams behind us.

 

***

 

We run towards Jean’s apartment as fast as our feet can carry us. My mind is racing with endless possibilities of what awaits us as we turn on to his street. Will Mikasa and I open his door to find his body mangled and beaten, barely breathing on the floor as Levi emerges from the dark to attack? Or will we make it in time to grab him and get the hell away from the apartment? I pray that it’s the latter. I can see myself knocking desperately on the wood of the door until Jean opens it, a look of surprise and happiness when he sees that it's me. He’ll ask why Mikasa is with me and I’ll tell him that I’ll explain later, telling him that he has to come with us. My heart tells me that he’ll come, no questions asked, and just this once, I’ll have been one step ahead of the tragedy surrounding our lives.

The building enters our sight and I break into a sprint, leaving Mikasa to chase after me. _Please be here, please be here. Let me make it just this once, let me have this._ The iron staircase leading up to his apartment rattles underneath my weight as I climb it. _Please, please, please be here. Let me be right._ Yet, as I reach the top step and make my way to 2-J, my hopes shatter.

His door is cracked open, although it appears as if someone slammed into it in order for it to open. I trudge slowly to the entrance, hearing Mikasa’s steps close behind mine as I press lightly on the wood of the door. We stand in the entryway, taking in the scene of papers scattered across the room as well as the turned over coffee table and broken television stand. My breathing starts to pick up. I thought seeing Jean beaten and bloody on the verge of death would be the worst possible outcome. But I was wrong. This is so much worse because I don’t have to enter to room to know that he tried to fight back and lost.

Mikasa pushes past me and into the living area but I can’t find it in myself to move. _What if they did kill him and his body is in the bedroom. Or the bathroom. Or the kitchen. This is your fault. They didn’t kill him. You did. You killed him by loving him. Look what you’ve done. This is. Your. Fault._

“Marco!” Mikasa shouts, breaking me from my thoughts. Her voice is calling from another room down the hall. I hesitantly step forward into the apartment and follow the sound of her voice.

_He is in the bedroom… Jean… I’m so sorry…_

When I walk into the room I breathe a small sigh of relief and then immediately tense up again. It may go without saying, but Jean isn’t the cleanest person. I have been in this room hundreds of times and there is always some sort of mess to avoid, whether it be a mountain of dirty clothes or an overflowing trash can. I have been in this room more times than I can count and I have never seen it so pristine. Not a single article of clothing nor an untucked bed sheet in sight. Mikasa stands at the foot of the queen size mattress that I have slept on after long nights of study sessions. She is holding an envelope in her small hands, fingers tracing over the edges of the paper. She hasn’t looked up since I walked in and I feel the familiar tremble of fear rising in my stomach. The adrenaline I had built up on our way over here is long gone.

“Mikasa… what is it?” I ask.

She snaps her head up. “It’s… it’s addressed to you…”

My heart drops as she slowly walks to my side. She hands me the envelope, eyes never leaving mine. I break the contact when I grab for the envelope and see the reason as to why there is a small hint of terror in her eyes. Etched on the back of the envelope in my name in Jean’s handwriting. I take in a shaky breath as I notice the jagged letters that make out my name. I turn the offending piece of paper over and open it, pulling out a folded note that reads:

 

_So your name is Marco? That’s all this pathetic waste of space has been screaming since we’ve entered his home. I told you that I always get what I want. Join us for dinner won’t you? At the church on 85th and Sina?_

_L. Rivaille_

 

I hand Mikasa the note when I am finished and storm out of the room and out of the apartment, intent on going straight to the destination aforementioned in the letter. I’m making my way down the stairs when I hear Mikasa behind me, yelling at me to stop. “I can’t just do nothing, Mikasa!” I scream. “I have to go after him!”

“Not by yourself!” she shouts back. “You need back up, you can’t go in there alone. I know my brother and I know Levi. You won’t stand a chance against either of them by yourself. You’ll get yourself killed before you even reach Jean.”

“Then what do you suggest? We don’t have a lot of time.”

She thinks for a moment before pulling out her cellphone. “I have someone in mind…”

 

***

 

The sun has long since set when arrive at the church. It is a small stone building, one of the oldest in Trost. The large wooden doors stare down at us as we pry them open and step into the nave, Mikasa and I leading as Reiner and Bertholdt prowl defensively behind us. Lining the pews are a series of candles that light the room. A long maroon carpet lines the chancel that leads to the altar and I gasp when I make out Jean’s lean body laid out on the offering table, his hands tied behind his back and a blindfold secured around his eyes. I almost have a panic attack seeing his body lying half-dead until I notice the slight rise and fall of his chest and breathe easy, if just for a moment. I immediately tense up when two figures emerge from the dark and into the transept, almost blocking my view of Jean.

“So glad you’ve decided to join us, Marco,” Levi alluringly. “But I don’t recall asking you to bring guests… Never mind, I’ll just have to take care of them first.” He gestures to Eren, who steps forward languidly, cracking his knuckles as he does so. Reiner steps in front of Mikasa and I, shielding us from the adversary. Eren chuckles.

“Rei, long time no see… Still Erwin’s bitch?” he taunts.

“Oh man, I am gonna kick your ass three ways to Sunday, you suicidal bastard,” Reiner responds as he positions himself into his fighting stance, crouching low and raising his fists to the level of his eyes.

Eren growls and charges toward Reiner arbitrarily only to be cut down by a surprise attack from Mikasa. Her brother turns and rushes at her when she high jumps to the floor above us, he follows without missing a beat, disappearing after her. Reiner clicks his tongue before giving Bertholdt and I a passing glance as he jumps up after them. We return our sights to Levi who rolls his eyes at the commotion, almost as though the sounds above us bore him. “Such unnecessary conflict, don’t you think?”

Bertl growls as he moves to stand in front of me. “You brought this on yourself, Levi,” he states, earning another eyeroll.

“And what? Now you’re going to stop me?” he asks.

Instead of answering, Bertl darts toward Levi, fists raised. He throws a punch at him, only to have his arm blocked and held in a strong grip. Levi pulls Bertholdt forward and lifts him from the ground, throwing him toward the pews. His body lands with a _crash!_ as the wood of the benches is crushed under his weight. I watch the scene in both awe and horror, seeing Levi’s true strength at full force for the first time and I am apprehensive that I’ll be able to defeat him on my own. I hear Reiner cry out Bertholdt’s name before he shouts something incoherent at Mikasa.

“Levi!” she shrieks as she leaps from the second story and striking him in the face. He releases and angry cry before stalking after Mikasa. I stay where I am, too shocked to move as they spar, the both of them getting in as many hits as they are receiving. Then I remember Jean and my adrenaline kicks in as I bolt towards the altar. Levi anticipates this however as he briefly takes his attention off of Mikasa and grabs my arm. I look back at him just as he brings his knee up to my elbow and pushes till the bone breaks. The scream I let out sounds foreign in my ears and I fall to the ground, clutching my upper arm. I feel almost numb as the bones try to heal themselves, it feels like I am outside of my body watching as Misaka tries to once again attack Levi. He expects this from her and extends his right arm towards her as his kagune travels down it’s length and punctures her abdomen.

I see her open her mouth to cry out but I don’t hear it, there is only the sound of my own heart beating rapidly in my ears. My vision is partially clouded as I watch Levi stalk toward me and raise his arm, kagune coiled tightly around it as he strikes me in the torso. I let out another agonizing howl, only aware that it is me by the rattling in my chest. Levi pulls out his arm, catching some of the blood dripping from his third limb, and licking his fingers. His pupils dilate and he moans in delight at the taste. He steps closer to me, assumedly to finish me off, when his body is knocked out of the way by Bertholdt. I can see his lips moving, telling me to move before he leaves my vision. I look down at my arm and try to wiggle my fingers, seeing the appendages twitch cooperatively when I do. My other hand reaches for my stomach, searching for a wound and find that most of my muscle has grown back.

Slowly, I move to a sitting position as my hearing returns to normal. The spectacle in front of me is utter chaos: Bertholdt spars with Levi, trying to knock the smaller man down a peg, Misaka holding her abdomen with an expression of pain on her face, Reiner brawling with Eren on the second story. I crawl over to Mikasa’s side and rest a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at me with tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “You’re not healing.” It isn’t a question but a statement that is confirmed when she shakes her head vigorously.

“I haven’t eaten since last month,” she explains. “I won’t heal as quickly without a suitable meal.”

Bertholdt is thrown back towards the entrance, crashing into the doors and falling flat to the ground. He struggles to stand to his feet, settling to kneel and he looks at us. There’s a blank look in his emerald eyes as he pushes himself to his feet and charging once more towards Levi, who has made his way to stand once more in front of the altar. He extends his kagune towards Bertl as he descends on him, attempting to block Levi with his own kagune to no avail. He is thrown back once again, turning to look at Mikasa and I, this time his eyes are begging us for help. I turn to Mikasa, searching her face for some sort of reassurance and find none. We’re grasping for straws now.

“Oh, Marco?”

We turn towards the source and find Levi standing directly over Jean. I let out an involuntary growl and release my kagune, ready to attack. “What do you think you’re doing?” I spit angrily.

Levi simply chuckles and reaches for the top of Jean’s head, scratching a hand through his hair and down the side of his face, an evil glint in his eyes. “I find this all to be rather tedious, don’t you?” He strokes his hand down Jean’s side and he stirs for a moment, my heart stopping. “So I say we end this here and now? I’ll start by devouring your boyfriend here and finish you off for dessert… How does that sound?”

As he raises his kagune, Bertholdt and I both leap into action, simultaneously sprinting towards the altar. Levi simply pushes me backwards, causing me to fall hard on my ass, and goes after Bertholdt. Mikasa crawls to my side as I retract my kagune. “You can't keep going after him like that,” she states. “He's too strong.”

“Mikasa…,” I start. “How strong are you compared to Levi when you're full?”

“We were about the same a few years ago but if I were at my full strength, maybe I could take him…,” she says.

“Then I have an idea,” I reply. “But I need you to trust me.”

“What is it?”

“You have to bite me, to fuel yourself,” I tell her, reaching up to pull down the collar of my shirt. She seems hesitant but nods, helping me sit up so that she can angle her mouth just right. Levi and Bertholdt are using their kagune to defend themselves and attempt to get the upper hand on each other. “Hey, Levi!” I scream, causing them both to stop and look over. “Now, Mikasa,” I whisper.

Her teeth connect to the junction between my neck and shoulder, sinking into my flesh as easily as biting into a slice of bread. The sensation isn't exactly painful, I just feel a slight amount of pressure before she pulls away. A vicious growl rips from Levi's throat as he completely disregards Bertholdt and storms toward her in a rage. “How dare you take what's mine?!” he screams.

“Yours?” Mikasa asks. “Don't make me laugh. I don't see one fucking thing here that belongs to to you.” Then she pounces on him, her fiery kagune clashing with his violently. Levi thrashes at her but she is faster, dangerously so, as she knocks down each of his blows with her own. I take advantage of the distraction and make my way to the altar, pushing myself up onto my knees. Jean is turned on his side with the front of his body facing away from me. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm even as I pull his body closer to mine. He stirs quietly as I try to gently lift him off the table and into my lap. Bertholdt crawls over to help me and I end up with Jean cradled in my arms with Bertl resting his head on my shoulder.

An agonizing cry fills the room, causing even Reiner and Eren to stop their fighting. Levi falls to the floor, retracting his kagune as he clutches his left side, now missing an arm. Mikasa finishes him off by piercing his chest, successfully apprehending him. “We're finished here,” she states calmly.

“Like hell we are!” Eren screams as he jumps from the second story and lunges toward his sister. Reiner however is quick to follow and utilizes his own kagune to puncture him through straight through the stomach, causing Eren to cry out and fall limply to the floor.

“Yeah, I think we're done here,” Reiner says before rushing to Bertholdt’s aid.

Mikasa likewise comes to help me untie Jean's hands and remove the blindfold. I'm grateful to her and offer her thanks, telling her that she should probably call Erwin to ask for backup. She smiles and turns to make the call. Jean stirs once again in my embrace, this time scrunching up his nose and slowly blinking open his beautiful amber eyes. “Marco…,“ he whispers, voice gravelly from sleep.

I bring a hand up to stroke the side of his cheek and shush him softly. “I'm here. Everything is going to be alright,” I say quietly. He nods tiredly and lays his head against my chest, breathing in and out deeply. Soon he's fast asleep and for once I actually believe my own words. Everything is going to be alright. Because we've got each other.

We always have each other.

 

***

 

The morning after the church incident is incredibly busy. While Erwin closed the shop for the day, all of his employees are called in to help the injured parties are taken care of, including Levi and Eren. Ymir's girlfriend, Historia, helps Hanji with treating them and makes sure to look the four of us over as a precaution. She is a short woman who could be Armin’s twin, they're actually cousins. She is kind to us although when Reiner tries to get out of his check up, she nearly puts him over her knee, refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer. The scene is actually quite comical since Historia’s size compared to Reiner's is pretty drastic. When she finishes with us, I shyly ask if she'll look at Jean as I don't really trust Hanji to. She giggles and heads upstairs to check on him.

When we came back to Wall Rose last night, I refused to take Jean home and Erwin set up one of the many empty rooms upstairs for him to rest in. I stayed with him until the others arrived this morning and even then was reluctant until Sasha popped into the doorway and offered to sit with him in case he woke up. She stays with me as Historia assesses his condition and leaves with her when she's done. I sit with his head in my lap and run my fingers through the sandy part of his undercut, simply content to have him here and know that he's alright. I lean my head back against the wall and just breathe deeply.

For the first time in a long while, I feel calm, even if it is only for a moment. In this small room with it’s drawn shades and it’s soundproof walls, I feel unafraid of the outside world. I can feel Jean’s heart beating steady under my palm and look down to study his face. His brows are slightly furrowed, pink lips parted as he breathes. What happens to us now? He must already know about me now, Levi made sure of that. I lean my head back against the drywall and stare blankly at the ceiling. I was supposed to tell him on my own terms at the right time, preferably when I would be sure he wouldn’t run from me. We were going to learn how to trust each other again and now… well, I don’t know what happens now. Are we still best friends? Are we more? Does he still want me even if I am a human-ghoul hybrid? Why would he? Look at me, I don’t belong anywhere. I’m stuck in the middle somewhere, not human and not a ghoul either. Both, somehow.

Everything would just be simpler if the world was black and white, not shades of gray. It would be simpler if all ghouls were bad and all humans were good. It would be easier if I knew that Jean hated me because of what I am, at least I would know my place in the world. But life isn’t that easy, it can’t be. Then there wouldn’t be a reason for us to exist. Everyone would get what they wanted and no one would have any ambition. Misaka is a ghoul, but she is brave and kind, unlike her brother, who is also a ghoul. Connie is a ghoul and yet, he still found love with a human, who loves him back just as deeply. Annie was a ghoul that only saw humans as cattle, but I’m sure she had a family who loved and cared for her. I used to believe that there was a line drawn between both species, there were humans and ghouls, people and monsters. But I can’t look at it that way anymore because now I am in between, I am caught between the lighter and the darker shades of grey. And ultimately, Jean is too. So are all of us at Wall Rose.

The gentle touch of a hand stroking my cheek breaks me from my train of thought and I look down to see bright amber irises staring back up at me. “I can hear you thinking from all the way down here, you know,” Jean says quietly, a soft smile adorning his features.

I lean into his touch bringing a hand up to grasp the one resting on my cheek. “Sorry,” I apologize. “You know me.”

“I’m not so sure I do anymore…”

There it is. The words I have been dreading and I thought I would be more prepared to hear them but the tears falling from my eyes betray me. The weight of Jean’s head leaves my lap as he sits up on his knees, scooting as close to me as he can and begins to wipe carefully at my tears while tilting my face up to meet his. “Hey, hey,” he coos. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing for me to say. Marco, please don’t cry, I’m not going anywhere. I’m just trying to understand this.”

I nod, blinking furiously to stop myself from crying. “I know, I know,” I whisper shakily. “I am s-so sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“For lying to you. For getting you hurt. For being what I am. For everything.” My voice wavers with every word.

Jean shakes his head. “Marco, I don’t give a shit whether you’re a ghoul or not. That doesn’t change the way I feel about you, nothing could ever change that. And you didn’t hurt me, that prick and his boyfriend did,” he explains.

“I still lied.”

“To protect me,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine. “Even I can understand that.”

I sniff pathetically, searching his eyes for some kind of sign that what he’s saying isn’t true. That it’s a lie. But I find none. “You’re not… you don’t hate me?”

He seems taken aback by this and chuckles quietly. “Marco, I could never hate you. I… I love you too much,” Jean says.

My heart stutters at his words and I bring my hands to rest on his neck. “I love you, too.” And I swear, he beams like the sun before pressing his lips to mine.

And I’m so happy that he’s got me, that he always has me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I actually had to research the layout of most churches. Ah, the irony.  
> I hope you guys liked it! I'm thinking of continuing this au in either a multichapter fic or in a series of one shots so let me know what you guys think! I will hopefully be updating my other fic by next week now that my block is semi gone.  
> Please feel free to leave feedback or come visit me on [tumblr](http://baileyboy001.tumblr.com/)!


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